Among the Stars I Seek
by Nialon
Summary: They were destined for this. To breathe, to live, and to die for their friendship. It's fate. Five  moments. Five years.
1. Solace

_Hello! This happens to be my first Star Trek story and I'm really excited about it! After obsessively watching the new movie, the old ones, the original series, and reading tons and tons of the amazing fanfiction like a crazy person, I feel like I'm ready to dip my toes in. _

_Disclaimer: No, I do not own Star Trek...sigh..._

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><p>Spock hates Jim's guts.<p>

Okay, maybe not all Jim's guts. The Vulcan did come back and ask to be considered as his first officer. Still.

Spock hates most of Jim's guts.

Jim knows this because with nearly every decision he makes, Spock is immediately on his ass, quoting regulations and spouting logic like he's a fucking _geyser._ It's infuriating for the both of them. Jim doesn't understand why Spock won't let him do his damn job and Spock is desperately trying to counteract the torrential wave of illogic that is James Tiberius Kirk.

And neither wants to give in.

"Captain, I see no reason as to why your presence would be required – "

"There are _kids_ down there, you uptight – "

"It is unwise to have both the captain and first officer beam down during a hostile – "

"I'll show you _hostile_ – "

"We were ordered to wait until assistance arrived –"

"I'm not going to sit here and let them die!"

The captain and first officer of the U.S.S. Enterprise stare each other down, oblivious to the other crewmembers who are gaping at them with various levels of shock. Uhura is worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, Chekov is trying to hide behind his work station, and Sulu's expression is grim as he watches his commanding officers argue. The two of them have had some pretty impressive arguments over the six months since Jim became their captain, but none of them have ever gone this far.

Jim looks like he wants to _murder _the Vulcan standing resolutely in front of him and Spock looks as if he is seriously reconsidering trying to squeeze Jim's tonsils out through his throat. The Vulcan exhales once through his nose and seems to try calming himself down.

"Captain, you must – "

"_No_, Spock! I'm done arguing!" Jim turns on his heels and heads to the turbolift. Once inside he turns around, still glaring at Spock. He considers the Vulcan for a moment before suddenly stepping to his right, his foot tapping impatiently. "Are you coming or not?"

A tense silence fills the room. The entire bridge watches their Commander, who has his dark gaze locked on their Captain, his features hard as stone. His jaw ticks once, and then he briskly follows Jim into the turbolift. The captain sweeps his eyes over his bridge crew, and he is unable to ignore the intense fondness from sweeping over him as he takes in their determined faces. Spock is still as a statue by his side.

Everything will be all right.

Jim smirks.

"Don't worry guys. Sulu, you have the conn."

* * *

><p>As soon Jim lays eyes on the children, he doesn't see them for who they really are. He sees Kevin. He sees Thomas and Lisa, Mary and Jacob. Starved, hungry, and broken. He doesn't hear Spock's warnings at his side or the rapid phaser fire. His mind is set on one thing.<p>

_Got to save them, I have to save them they're so young and they don't deserve death, they don't have to die but they _do, _no matter how little I eat or how fast I run or how many men I kill, they _**_die_**_._

Later, when the children are rescued and in sickbay, hushed whispers of the crew move like ghosts throughout the ship, telling of the fierceness of their captain, of the almost feral glint in his gaze as he executed every last member of that slave ring. That same glint remains as he keeps a watchful eye over the children as they get examined.

"Chapel, take them to mess hall. Make sure they get something nutritional, no sweets," Bones orders as he finishes up with the last child, a little girl no more than eight.

"I'll take them."

There's something that is to be taken seriously in Kirk's tone, something that no one is willing to mess with, not even Bones. When he asks where the fifth child is, a boy, Bones points behind himself and his reply is hesitant, unused to Jim's strange and unsettling behavior.

"He's in one of the private rooms. He's not doing so well, Jim. He won't talk or let anyone come close to him."

No one stops Jim when he heads into the room.

Two minutes later the door opens and Jim steps out, leading a small boy with messy dark hair by the hand. The boy is skinny and he keeps close to Jim's legs, his head down, eyes on the floor. Everyone in sickbay watches as the captain ushers the children out the doors, all of them eerily silent as they surround Jim like small apparitions.

Nurse Chapel doesn't know what to make of it all. She's used to Jim flirting and generally being the worst patient he can be, but never has she seen him behave like this. Bones nods at her once and she heads for the mess hall. When she arrives she spots Jim immediately due to the lack of crewmembers surrounding him. He's near the wall, the children sitting across from him in a line. The quiet boy is sitting beside him. Chapel can see their hands linked under the table.

Since she probably looks weird just standing there, Chapel decides she might as well eat. While she gets her food she notices that not a single crewmember goes anywhere near Jim and the kids. It's almost like they've been sequestered from the rest of the hall. Deciding to go along with everyone else, Chapel chooses a seat that is not too close with a clear view of the children. True to McCoy's word, Jim has made sure that the children are eating a decent meal. There is a plate in front of Jim, but she doesn't see one for the boy next to him. Before Chapel can ponder this Jim picks up an apple slice from the plate and pops it into his mouth. The boy does the same not long after. They continue with this odd display, the boy not eating until after Jim does. When they are all finished, they gather and dispose of their plates and Jim leads them out of the hall. Chapel can't help but think of ducklings following their mother.

Jim never lets go of that boy's hand.

* * *

><p>In his bed that night, Jim thrashes and twists in the sheets, sweat mats his forehead, and Tarsus is in the forefront of his mind again, clawing and scraping at him until he wakes with a choked sob, shivering like a newly born lamb in the darkness of his room. Suddenly the dark is oppressive and cold, and the familiarity of his room has been swallowed completely. Jim imagines a huge beast with a gaping hole for a mouth swallowing up the sun and he knows it would look like this. His thoughts are panicked, locked in a mantra of <em>notsafeneversafenevernever<em>**_never_**_NEVER- _

With a pained sound ripping from his throat Jim bolts out of his bed and into the bathroom, colliding with Spock's unyielding body in front of the sink. Jim flails backwards, startled, and Spock stands there, his eyes narrowed as he takes in the ghastly and haggard appearance of his captain. Jim's harsh breathing is the only sound in the bathroom as the two stare each other down. Outwardly Spock's features are neutral, but his mind is reeling. Waves of fear and other tumultuous emotions that Jim should not be feeling are rolling off the human, setting Spock on edge. He has never seen Jim like this before. And despite the fact that they were in a heated argument earlier that day, Spock can't bring himself to ignore the small stirrings of concern in his chest. He restrains himself from taking a step closer to the human.

"Are you alright, Captain?"

Jim stands there, frozen, his eyes shadowed and dark. He doesn't respond and the idea of calling McCoy flits across the Vulcan's mind. Just when Spock decides that he will in fact call the doctor, Jim shakes his head and takes a step back, the motion itself slow and deliberate. He takes another step, and another, until he's back inside his room, leaving the door ajar.

His eyes never once left Spock's.

In his bed that night, Spock doesn't sleep at all because every time he closes his eyes, he sees the haunted blue of his captain's and he knows that only a certain kind of pain can cause that, the kind that leaves people twisted and scarred.

So Spock lies there and listens to the muffled sobs that float through the small crack of his door, wishing that he could take away his captain's pain and ignoring how illogical that wish truly is.

Both of them know that in the end, wishing gets you nowhere.

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><p><em>Phew. I hope that was okay! Was it okay? Should I continue? You must review, yes?<em>

_:D_

_Please keep in mind that if you do not review, somewhere, a tribble dies._

_*GASP*_

_I know! Who would want to kill a tribble? Do you? I think not! You know what that means! :p_


	2. A Kindred Soul

_Thank you to all who have reviewed, alerted, and favorited! You make writing a wonderful experience. :)_

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><p>It is dinner time in the mess hall and the room is full of the chattering of the crewmembers. Spock is eating his salad when Jim quite suddenly appears out of nowhere, sitting in front of him and setting down a plate with a burger and fries in a flurry of movement that leaves the Vulcan momentarily bewildered. It seems he will never become used to the hurricane that is Jim Kirk.<p>

"Hey, Spock." Jim smiles brightly at his friend, clearly in high spirits.

"Hello, Captain."

"Jim. It's Jim."

"Very well, Jim."

The young captain grins and stuffs a few fries in his mouth. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Spock doesn't answer, as he distracted by Jim's apparent lack of dining etiquette. The blond doesn't seem to care about the ketchup all over his fingers or the fact that most of his fries never make it into his stomach as he chatters to Spock, who is certain that the point of eating is to _consume _the food.

He will never understand humans.

"So," Jim starts, munching happily on his fries, "How was that little planet we stopped at a few days ago? You said there were some funky looking plants…?"

Spock nods in confirmation. "Yes. The flora on Korsla III contained many chemical anomalies that I am not familiar with. We have several scientists who are studying them further, myself included."

"That does sound interesting. Tell me what you find out. Now here. Try this." Jim slides a small bowl over to Spock, who peers into it curiously. When had Jim gotten that bowl? It appears to be filled with some kind of soup. Spock continues to stare at the cream colored liquid. There are no vegetables in it or any other visible ingredients. It is also lacking any scent whatsoever. Spock isn't quite sure what to make of it. He looks up at Jim.

"May I ask what it is?"

"Looks like soup to me."

Spock resists the alarmingly strong urge to roll his eyes, knowing that Jim would be intensely gleeful if he did so.

"Thank you, Jim. Your observational skills astound me, as always."

Jim smiles fondly at Spock, placing his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. The Vulcan seems to be having an internal debate. Finally, he picks up his spoon and dips it into the soup, which is surprisingly thick. Spock doesn't need to look up to know that Jim is staring at him intently.

Well, here goes nothing.

Spock sticks the spoon in his mouth and his eyes widen almost comically. Jim laughs at the rare expression of surprise on his friend's face as Spock eats another spoonful. And another. After the third Spock sets down his spoon.

"I find this soup to be incredibly pleasing," he says in a matter of fact tone. Jim smiles brightly.

"I would've made some more, but I wasn't sure if you would like it."

A spark of interest enters Spock's gaze and he looks at Jim intently.

"You made this?"

Jim nods. "And before you ask, no. I will not tell you the ingredients." He leans in towards Spock, who mimics him unconsciously, a curious light in his eyes. The two stare at each other for a moment. "It's a secret," Jim finally whispers. Spock abruptly leans back and his gaze narrows.

"You will tell me the contents of this soup," he orders. Jim laughs, remembering the last time Spock used this tone with him. It seems so far away now. The two of them aren't the best of friends, but they have formed a tentative friendship that Jim hopes will continue to grow. He felt what the old Spock had with his Jim, and a part of Jim desperately wants that. But for now, he's content with the way things are now.

"You're getting awfully bossy, Spock," Jim comments.

"I must insist that you tell me how you made this soup. Keeping this information from me is illogical," Spock continues, completely disregarding his captain's statement.

Jim grins. The Vulcan is like a dog with a bone.

"And as you know, we humans are the epitome of all things illogical," Jim responds, enjoying their playful banter immensely.

"The simple fact that you are aware of your species' shortcomings is the first step in correcting the problem. However, I still do not understand why you will not tell me the ingredients of this soup. I was not even aware that you are able to cook." As soon as the words leave his mouth Spock wants to take them back. Jim's smile has faltered, and it suddenly looks forced. Wrong. His gaze drops to Spock's empty bowl. He shrugs.

"It's a talent I picked up when I was little."

Spock nods as his brain back peddles rapidly, reviewing over their conversation. Had he said something that offended Jim? Spock studies the man before him, noting the downcast eyes and slight frown. Yes, he must have said something to make his captain behave like this. Spock straightens, catching Jim's attention.

"I apologize, Captain."

Jim simply looks at Spock, an expression of confusion washing over his features.

"For what?"

Spock tilts his head and levels an assessing look at Jim.

"I do not know, Captain. You were exhibiting normal behavior until my previous response to your admittance of your species' failure at logic. I am obviously the cause of this. Therefore, I believe an apology is required."

Jim's expression is surprisingly unreadable, one that Spock has never seen before. He has become quite adept at reading Jim's emotions over the two year span of their relationship, but never has the human been this hard to read. After a brief moment, Jim gives a faint smile.

"No need to apologize, Spock. You didn't do anything wrong." He shoves another fry in his mouth and Spock realizes that he won't get anything more from Jim. Spock finishes his glass of water and bids his captain goodnight, leaving Jim to stare pensively at the Vulcan's back. Just as Spock disappears through the doors, Jim shoots up and jogs after him, leaving his half eaten burger behind. Spock has just entered the turbolift when he turns and sees Jim coming after him. He holds the door and his captain comes to a stop just outside the entrance of the turbolift. Jim exhales a gust of breath.

"Hey, Spock."

The Vulcan inclines his head. "Hello, Captain."

Spock can tell that Jim wants to correct him on his use of title instead of name, but instead he is pleasantly surprised of what Jim asks instead.

"Why don't you come over and play chess with me later?"

They've played a few games here and there, and Spock has learned that Jim is a very formidable opponent, contrary to his initial belief. It seems that Jim is full of surprises.

"I find that to be acceptable."

"Great!" Jim rocks back on his heels. "So I'll see you in an hour?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Great. Uh…I'll see you then, I guess." Jim waves and jogs back to the mess hall.

He really wants to finish that burger.

* * *

><p>When Jim lets Spock in he really should have noticed that something was…off.<p>

But of course he didn't until it was too late.

Spock was in the middle of moving his rook when _it _happened. It was loud. It was unexpected. It was…

A sneeze.

"ACHOO!"

The force of it almost knocks Spock out of his chair. Jim reels back, a bewildered expression on his face, and he actually falls out of his chair. Chess pieces go flying. The table rattles. Jim flails.

"Holy _shit_, Spock! What – "

"ACHOO! HAESHOO!"

God, they're like mini explosions! Jim can't help but laugh as he climbs to his feet. Spock looks vaguely mortified. He opens his mouth to speak and –

"ACHOO!"

Jim really tries to hold in his laughter. He really does. And it works – for about three seconds. The he gives up and points and cackles.

"Oh my god, Spock, your face!"

The Vulcan does indeed look quite ridiculous. His eyes are wide and he is gripping his chair with both hands, his fingers digging into the sides. His hair looks windswept from his forceful movememts.

"Jim, I think the – HESHOO! The, ah, plants might have had some –" He sneezes again. Jim notices that his eyes are a bit puffy.

"I think I should call Bones," Jim decides, his amusemement fading as he looks over Spock critically. His first officer sneezes again, his expression pained, and in that moment, he truly looks miserable.

"That will not – will not – HACHOO! Be necessary," Spock says, but then he _sniffles_ – a sniffling Vulcan! – and his argument is ruined.

"Yep. One pissed off southern doctor coming right up."

One pissed off doctor indeed.

"Jim, I was trying to sleep! What the hell has got your panties in a twist?" Bones demands. Then he looks at Spock and before anyone can blink he has a tricorder out. "Hmm…"

Jim looks between Spock and Bones. "Hm? What does that mean? Is he dying?"

"ACHOO!"

Bones jumps a little at the force of the sneeze and then he chuckles.

"Nah, Jim. Spock here has a cold. I guess the plants did something funny to his system…damn Vulcan biology…" the doctor mutters. He turns to Jim. "Make sure he gets plenty of fluids and bed rest. Tie him down if you have to." With that McCoy leaves, presumably back to his bed. Spock and Jim share a look.

"If you will excuse me, Captain, I will now return to my quarters." Spock stands. He sneezes.

"Hold on a minute!" Jim thrusts his hand out in front of Spock. "I'm going to make sure you get better!"

Spock quirks a brow. "Your assistance will not be needed. I am fully capable of taking care of my – HICHOO!"

Jim smirks.

* * *

><p>"Captain, there really is no need for all of this."<p>

Spock is settled into Jim's bed, his back against the headboard. The temperature has been raised to meet his needs and Jim is coming towards him, a glass of water in one hand.

"Shut up and drink this." Spock really wants to roll his eyes. But he doesn't. Instead he takes a sip and this seems to mollify Jim. "There. This isn't so bad, is it?" Jim's grin looks slightly manic. Spock isn't sure if he should be worried or not.

"I do not want to be a burden. I must insist that you allow me to go back to my quarters."

The two stare at each other. Then Jim sighs dramatically.

"Well, if you want to, I suppose I can't keep you here against your will."

Alarms go off in Spock's head. His eyes narrow imperceptibly. Jim is up to something. A sneaky Jim is never good.

"I suppose you are right," Spock agrees cautiously.

"I guess you don't want any of more of my soup then."

Damn.

"…Maybe it would be best if I stay here."

"That's what I thought."

While Jim busies himself with making the soup (he still won't tell _how_) Spock decides to go into a light meditation. He does not feel comfortable going in very deep; he is in someone else's room, after all, even if it's just Jim. He ponders the plants found on Korsla. They haven't affected the humans at all. Spock would like to study them further, but he does not want to be sick, either…

When he hears his name being called Spock awakens from the trance in time to see something that makes his chest ache.

Jim is blowing cool air over the top of his soup.

Rushed memories of his mother invade Spock's mind, each more tender and heart wrenching then the last. His mother would always cool his soup for him that way. She would confine him to bed and make him drink lots of water and fluff his pillow and -

Jim hands him the soup, eyes gentle, and God help him, all Spock can see is his mother, concern and love in her soft eyes and care in her hands. Spock accepts the soup from Jim, careful about not letting their fingers brush.

"You okay, Spock? You seem a little…sad. Do you want me to fluff your pillow? I'm a real good fluffer."

Spock's fingers tighten around the bowl. "No…no, that will not be necessary." The room suddenly feels too hot. Spock looks down at his soup and realizes that it has lost its appeal.

_I miss her._

The lone thought echoes throughout Spock's mind. It has been two years, but the loss still weighs heavily on his mind. For one moment, he wonders if she knew how much he loved her.

"You don't want it anymore, do you?"

Spock looks up at Jim, and the disappointment is obvious in his clear blue eyes. Spock is reminded again of his mother, when he would do things he would rather not have just to please her. Often what he did was illogical, but it was worth it to see her happy.

"I was simply reminiscing, Jim."

Spock begins to eat his soup. The taste never registers, but it is a small price to pay for the warmth in Jim's eyes. He finishes his soup and Jim takes his bowl with the same soft smile his mother would to give him. That's when he realizes it.

_She knew. She always knew._

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><p><em>Now is the time for...reviewing! Yaaaaay! :D<em>


	3. Family

_I've never updated a story so quickly before! I kind of like it. :)_

_I had a great time writing this chapter. Really, making Jim's life difficult shouldn't be this fun._

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><p>"Spock! Spock, where the hell are you?"<p>

Jim is running, clutching his phaser tightly in both hands. He leaps towards a large rock and presses his back to it, sliding down on his butt and panting heavily. His heart feels like it's going to pound through his chest at any moment.

_Some peaceful mission this is._

"Goddamn locals," he mutters under his breath. He peeks over the rock and expertly fires a shot into the back of one of his pursuers. The dense forest area is chaotic; there are bodies littering the ground, phaser fire and yelling all around, and to make matters worse, Jim has no idea where Spock went. He makes a mad dash behind a tree and narrowly avoids getting his head blown off. So far he's counted six of the natives, and there are definitely more of them.

"Captain! Over here!"

Jim's head swivels in the direction of Cupcake's voice. He sees the officer and three more behind a massive boulder. Jim calculates the distance in his head. He should be able to make it. Probably. Maybe?

"Here we go," he mutters to himself before he takes off towards the boulder. An impact from the native's projectile weapons causes dirt to kick up right in front of Jim's face, momentarily blinding him. He keeps on running and swipes at his eyes, and only a second later Giotto's hand is around his wrist, pulling him to safety. Jim gets the last bit of dirt out of his eyes and the first thing he sees is Spock's still body on the ground.

Jim prides himself on his ability to perform well under stress, a trait that has saved himself and others in many situations. It takes a lot to rattle him. But seeing Spock lying there, motionless, is enough for him to lose his shit.

"Oh God, Spock? Spock!"

Jim is kneeling in the dirt beside the Vulcan in less than a heartbeat, and he vaguely he realizes that the sticky substance coating the knees of his uniform is blood, _Spock's blood_, and there's so much of it and Spock isn't moving or telling Jim how illogical he's being –

"Spock, look at me. Come on, look at me, you bastard!"

There's no response. No movememnt; Spock might as well be asleep.

_Or dead..._

Jim hears one of his officers calling for beam up but it doesn't register, nothing registers due to the fact that it can't be important because the only important thing right now is the Vulcan laid out bleeding and deathly silent in front of him.

When McCoy sees the way Kirk is hunched protectively over Spock's prone body when they materialize, he knows he's going to have his hands full. Jim is barely containable when _he's _the one hurt, but if it's someone else, especially Spock, it's impossible to keep him out of the way. So McCoy allows Jim to run along the stretcher to sickbay and he doesn't comment on how the shaken the younger man's voice is as he tells Spock that he'll be okay and that he'll even let him win at their next chess game.

"It'll be the first time in a while, huh?" Jim sounds hysterical now, focused on the slack of Spock's mouth and the pool of green blood soaking his normally pristine uniform.

Jim really, _really_, abhors the color green. It's funny, because that was his favorite color before taking command of this ship. He used to think of green being the color of life, of trees and grass. Then Spock got injured on their fifth away mission and there was so _much _green. Slipping through his fingers and coating his uniform, and Jim realized that this was not life, not trees and grass, it was death, a black and inky cloud looming over the horizon, greedy pale fingers ready to snatch away his friend at any moment.

Jim learned to hate green, because death isn't welcome here.

When they get to sickbay McCoy is barking orders in that no-nonsense way of his, directing the nurses like he's a traffic cop and they're the cars that will pile up and crash into each other without him. And who knows, they just might. This mission was tough on the crew, and there are still many injured patients being tended to. At the diplomatic party they quickly realized that the Ekarians just wanted to play nice so they could take a few hostages to sacrifice in order to please their god. What was supposed to be a peaceful mission turned into a mad scrabble to get the hell away from the purple aliens who wanted to cut them into pieces and then throw said pieces into a large ocean filled with carnivorous…things.

All in all, today _sucks_.

Bones is prepping for surgery now, and as soon as he gets his gloves on Spock's monitors go berserk. The Vulcan seems to pale even more, and if not for the shrill pitch of the monitors, he might as well be dead.

"Goddamn it!" Bones exclaims. "Salba, get over here!" The Georgia doctor looks up then, and even though he's a well seasoned professional, the sight before him causes him to pause for a brief second.

Jim is standing there, his eyes bright and glassy, and he looks like a man who is watching his world go up in flames. At that moment he looks strangely out of place among the bustling nurses and chaotic movement, a lost soul with a haunting blue gaze, a ghost, unable to do anything except observe, prone to disappearing at any second with the slightest disturbance. Jim meets his eyes then, and the message is clear in the grim set of his mouth and the seriousness of his expression.

_If he dies, so will I._

McCoy holds the solemn stare of best friend for one more second before signaling Nurse Chapel. "Get him out of here."

Jim leaves without saying a word, but his presence still lingers like a shadow in the back of McCoy's mind throughout the entire surgery. When Spock's heart stops for the first time, he panics for a second, because the reality of the situation finally hits home. He has to save Spock, _has _to, because even though he won't admit it, Spock is his friend, and more than that, if Spock dies, Jim will never be the same. And Bones knows that Jim wouldn't blame him, that's not in his nature. But the doctor can't see how he could get though the day seeing the pain in his friend's eyes and knowing that it was partially his fault.

And that's just Jim.

McCoy doesn't want to think about how Uhura would react, because he knows the two are still extremely close and Spock's death would devastate her. He doesn't want to think about Sulu's respect for Spock or the way they geek out over the plants in the botany lab during odd hours of the night. He doesn't want to think about Scotty's attempts at beating the Vulcan during their Friday night poker games, even though everyone knows it's futile because _duh_, Vulcans have the most epic of poker faces. He especially doesn't want to think about Chekov and his unwavering loyalty to Spock, partly because he still feels a phantom pain about not saving his mother, but mostly because Spock is the only one who looks past his age and recognizes him as an equal.

He doesn't want to think about any of that, even though those are the reasons why he can't fail.

And he doesn't.

Spock dies twice on that table, and McCoy brings him back.

It's several hours later when Bones calls Jim. The young captain shows up rather quickly, his appearance haggard. He looks at Spock sleeping, safe and sound, and then he immediately crushes Bones in a hug, hanging on as if he'd float away at any second. He begins to babble incoherently and Bones rubs an arm up and down his back.

"Thank you, Bones, thank you so much, I thought he…I thought… "

Jim cuts himself off and burrows into McCoy's neck, his body quivering slightly. The older man sighs and runs a hand through messy blond hair.

"He's alright, Jim. He'll be okay."

Jim nods and pulls away, swiping a hand across his eyes. He smiles shakily at Bones and pats him once on the shoulder.

"Cap…Jim…"

And just like that, Jim is suddenly at Spock's side as if he never left. Bones doesn't mind being ignored. With a small smile he shakes his head and returns to his office, giving the two some privacy.

"Hey, Spock." Jim's voice is soft as he looks over his friend. Spock is still pale and he looks very tired, but he's alive and that's all Jim cares about. "You…you scared the shit out of me. Don't do it again or I'll have to transfer you. Only so many heart attacks I can take." Jim smirks, but it doesn't breach past the concern in his eyes.

"I…apologize, Captain."

"Jim."

"Very well, Jim."

Kirk smiles.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Neither will…ensuring your defeat…at…" Spock drifts off, but Jim gets it anyways.

"We'll see," he says quietly, studying the peaceful expression on his friend's face. "We'll see."

Jim doesn't know when he fell asleep, but when he wakes up he's surrounded by familiar faces. Uhura, Sulu, Scotty, and Chekov are situated around Spock's bed in chairs, all of them sleeping. Sickbay is unusually quiet, and Jim has a sneaking suspicion that a certain surly doctor has something to do with it. He studies his friend's faces one by one. He smiles and leans back, closing his eyes as a strong feeling wells up, heavy and warm in his belly.

_Family_, is what he thinks.

This is what family feels like.

* * *

><p><em>The next chapter is going to be pretty angsty...and I can't wait! I love some good angst!<em>

_You know...only if it isn't happening to me personally. Haha._


	4. Absolution

It's that time of year again. Red and green decorations, mistletoe, carols, presents…

"Merry Christmas!"

Jim cackles as he darts away from the poor ensign he just startled half to death, drunk out of his mind and loving every second of it. The Christmas party is in full swing and the members of the Enterprise are in high spirits after the fourth year of their mission. Jim is whistling jovially as he hunts for his best friend. He spots a mop of curly hair and changes his course.

"Chekov! Hey, I – " Jim stops.

_Um._ _Whoa._

Jim never knew Chekov could dance like that. Wow, he's really flexible…

Jim shudders.

_Bad thoughts! Bad!_

Jim smacks his forehead and turns away, veering off towards the back wall where he hears a very grumpy voice that he knows anywhere.

"Look, here he comes now, probably drunk off his ass," he hears, and he smiles endearingly as he approaches the doctor and Uhura. The communications officer shakes her head and then spots Scotty trying to climb onto one of the decorations. She sighs and makes her way over there, leaving McCoy to handle Kirk.

"Bones! I can't believe you're still here!" Jim exclaims, throwing an arm around his friend's shoulders. McCoy would scowl, but he's kind of buzzed and kind of liking it. Instead he shrugs.

"Me neither. But I have to say, it's entertaining to watch you fools jump around like rabid monkeys."

Jim explodes with laughter. To Bone's amusement, he keeps on laughing, doubling over and gasping for breath. After two minutes where Jim is still laughing, the doctor frowns.

Really, it wasn't that funny. Maybe Jim's finally gone of his rocker.

Took him long enough.

Jim leans against the wall, chuckling absently as he watches the lights play over the swaying bodies of his crew. God, he loves his job. He's captain of the perfect ship with the perfect crew…everything is perfect.

"Bones…Bones, we're really lucky."

The doctor nods. "I know." He pats Jim once on the shoulder and ambles away into the crowd. Jim continues to lean on the wall, bobbing his head along to the music. He accepts a few drinks from his friends with a good natured grin, getting a few smiles in return. It's good to see his crew relax and have a good time. This really was a great year, probably the best in his opinion. Jim had never felt like he fit in anywhere growing up, but here, he finally feels like he belongs. Like he's home. Everyone is comfortable with each other, and it shows during their missions. Jim has never witnessed true loyalty until he took command of this ship.

He doesn't know how long he stayed against that wall, but when he comes out of his reverie the party is winding down and a significant number of people have already left. He pushes himself off the wall and stumbles, his arms pin wheeling to stop his fall. A firm but gentle grip on his arm pulls him upright and he finds himself staring into the dark eyes of his first officer.

"Hello, Jim."

"Spock! Wow, you've never stayed this late before!" Jim immediately latches onto Spock's arm and begins to march them towards their quarters. "You have to make sure I don't pass out in the hallway or something. Last year Sulu pulled a really mean prank on me when I did that…"

Spock listens to Jim's ramblings with a patience developed over the last four years. His captain likes to talk, even more so when he is as drunk as he is now. The Vulcan finds that he really doesn't mind. There isn't much he wouldn't do for Jim, including ensuring that he got to his room safely without being pranked by crazy sword wielding helsmen.

They reach the door and Jim's so out of it that Spock has to key in his code and order the lights to thirty percent. Kirk is babbling in his ear about warp core mechanics and sehlats and Spock resolutely ignores this in favor of dragging the inebriated man to his bed.

"I wanted a sehlat…I'd name it Bo Peep," Jim comments dreamily as Spock deposits him on the bed. The Vulcan decides not to comment on the odd revelation. Spock removes Jim's boots and the human wriggles his toes. "You're so nice to me, Spock. No one was nice to me…before…"

Spock feels a stirring of interest. Jim never divulged information on his past, a topic that Spock has been curious about ever since the night that Jim ran into him in their bathroom. He decides to try his luck.

"Before what, Jim?" he asks as he sets his captain's boots in their place by the bed. Many would think otherwise, but Jim keeps his quarters impeccably clean. Spock looks at Jim, who is staring at him solemnly, all good cheer washed away from his features. He looks down and picks at his blankets.

"Before Starfleet."

That was only seven years ago. Surely Jim can't mean that _no one_ cared about him before that?

"I don't blame them," Jim continues, his voice quiet. "I wasn't a good kid growing up. I didn't deserve it."

If Spock were human, he's pretty sure his jaw would have dropped. Jim not deserving kindness? _Jim_? The man who has risked his life time and time again for his crew? The man who saved Earth and helped the survivors of Vulcan with their new lives? His friend, who has proven to be one of the best friends Spock could have ever asked for? Spock feels anger lick at his insides at anyone who has done James Kirk wrong in his life. He kneels in front of Jim, who is still picking at his sheets.

"Look at me, Jim."

The human meets his gaze and Spock continues.

"You are the most honorable and compassionate being I have come across in my travels. I am awed by your intelligence and your good will towards others who are in need of it. You are one of a kind, James, yet you simply ask for a rock when you could have the world. You are worth it, and you do deserve it." Spock's voice holds an unwavering conviction that carries through Jim's alcohol ridden brain, causing the younger man to blink dumbly at his friend who might as well just confessed his undying love for him.

Then Jim begins to doubt. He's done it all his life and this time isn't any different. But Spock wouldn't lie to him, would he? No, if he said it, then he meant it.

_He doesn't know the real you. How many people you've killed. How many you let die. _

If Spock knew, would he still be by his side? If he knew, would he…leave?

"You don't mean that." Kirk's voice is barely a whisper and he stares at his lap, his brows furrowed. "You don't mean it."

Spock tilts his head at this, studying Jim's face intently.

"Why do you not believe me?"

Jim doesn't respond at all to Spock's question. His eyes are glazed over as he stares at a point on the floor. Normally Spock would try and get Jim to sleep, because his friend is very drunk and not himself right now, but something tells him that this moment is very, very important. Crucial.

So he stays.

He rises and sits next to Jim on his bed, not saying a word. Together they just sit and breathe in the quiet, and even through the murky haze in Jim's brain he feels the small and simple joy of companionship, of having someone who is like you and yet so very different next to you, and of being able to peacefully exist with one another in a comfortable silence. Quite suddenly, everything clicks to place in Jim's mind.

This is Spock.

The acceptance, the friendship, late nights playing chess, witty banter, barely concealed jokes and sometimes too human eyes (more human than any soul Jim's ever encountered), it's all _Spock_.

Just Spock.

Jim takes a breath and exhales slowly.

"I remember the flowers."

Spock looks at Jim, but the human is staring ahead, a far away look in his eyes.

"I remember looking at them and thinking about how colorful they were. That's when I heard the screaming." Jim pauses, still staring at nothing, caught up in the past.

"I ran to the house and I saw men with guns dragging my aunt and uncle out. I tripped and fell and hit my head on a rock. When I woke up, the men were gone and my aunt and uncle were dead. After I buried them I was scared and I wanted to stay in the house, but I knew it wasn't safe. So I kept walking. That's when I met…" Jim trails off, and Spock's entire body is taut with the knowledge that Jim is finally letting him in, after four years of dodging and cryptic answers and fake grins. "Kevin."

Spock keeps silent.

"He was young, and confused. His parents were dead. So I took him. Took his hand and never let go." Jim lowers his gaze to the floor. "I'm not sure how long we walked. When we got to the city…it looked like something out of a horror movie. There were bodies everywhere. I'll never forget the smell. I kept out of the street because there were still the men in black patrolling. After a while I found a little girl in an alley. Her name was Mary."

He smiles briefly, a wisp of a thing, and it's gone a second later.

"I took her too. And any other kid I saw. Most were older than me and some were too young, but I took them. I didn't know what I would do with them, but I knew I had to keep them safe. By nightfall I had twenty three. I led them away from the city and kept them out of sight in the forest. The next morning I went back to the city for food. Corpses were baking in the heat, I had twenty three other people to look out for, and I was barely thirteen. Tarsus chewed me up and spit me back out, Spock. The good parts of me died along with those kids."

Spock still sits quietly, looking solemnly at Jim, who still hasn't met his eyes. He observes the man he has grown to respect over the years, and once again he finds himself wishing that he could take away his pain. After a few moments of silence, Spock briefly touches Jim's shoulder.

"I grieve with thee."

Jim turns his head, and their gazes lock.

Striking blue meet soulful brown, and Spock realizes that Jim is crying.

"Jim..." Spock was never good at comforting people and right now he wishes that he was. Jim is important to him and he wants to help in any way possible. "It was not your fault. You were a child and you were put in a situation you were not meant to handle. I am sure that – "

"Shut up, Spock."

Spock closes his mouth.

Jim stands and moves toward the door. Spock thinks that he might leave, but then he turns around. His face is shrouded in shadow but his eyes are bright, boring into Spock's with a wild kind of intensity.

"You don't know." Jim's voice is low and dangerous. "You don't know what I had to do to keep them alive. You don't know about the way another man's blood felt on my hands and you don't know how hard it was to find food and shelter and watch them fall like flies at my feet because I wasn't strong enough or fast enough and I wasn't _smart_ enough to keep them alive – "

"Jim, stop –" Spock tries, standing up, but Jim shakes his head and steps back, and Spock can't help but stare at the glistening tear tracks down Jim's face and the sharp glint in his eyes.

"I did terrible things. I murdered, I stole, and I made choices that nobody else wanted to." He begins to chuckle and it sends chills down Spock's spine because this man in front of him is _not _Jim, those feral eyes are not Jim's and he realizes that this is what happens when you keep all of that emotion pent up inside for years, hot and acrid to Spock's senses.

"You know, we were looking after a baby, a boy we named Miles. One day we were running low on medicine and there wasn't any time for me to go out and get more. There was only enough left for two people. Seven were still sick, including Miles." Jim shakes his head and clenches his fists. "I let them die. I picked the ones I thought had a better chance and I let the rest die. Nina, Carl, Jack, Holly, and...and..." he trails off, his expression stricken. "I killed a baby, Spock. A _baby_. I'm a monster," he whispers, and if Spock weren't a logical being, he would have said that his heart broke. No man should have to carry a burden such as this.

"Jim…come here," Spock says softly, sitting back down on the bed. Jim stares at him, the once burning intensity drained out of eyes, leaving them empty and haunted. "I must show you something," Spock says, and Jim finally moves to slump down on the bed next to him. Jim's shoulders are hunched, every line in his body tense. Spock reaches for his face, pauses, and at Jim's nod his fingers find Jim's psi points.

This meld is isn't like any other they've done before.

Previously, Spock would meld with Jim if it was needed for a mission or an important task where it couldn't be avoided. But this, this is completely different. Jim's mind is chaotic, a mass of jagged sensations and horrific images that Spock cannot ever hope to sort through nor block.

Fortunately, he had no intention of doing any of those things in the first place.

He lets the pain and the anger wash over him, dragging him under a torrential wave of built up grief and loneliness. He sees what Jim has seen, feels what Jim has felt, and grieves for what Jim has lost. He sees rotting corpses, the sharp outline of bones on tiny and malnurished bodies, he smells the dried blood and sickness thick in the air, and he hears the hoarse screams and shouts of the dying. But most of all he feels Jim; lost, hurt, and angry in the center of it all.

_Monster, that's all I am, all I'll ever be, you know now and you'll leave like the rest of them because I'm not worth it, never was – monster, monster, monster - _

Spock fights back, taking control and rising out the staggering stream of Jim's thoughts.

It's his turn now.

He takes every good memory, every fond moment and emotion that deals with himself and Jim, and he _shoves _it at the human.

And for one, long moment, Jim's mind is completely silent.

Spock can feel uncertainty and doubt, and he goes deeper, throwing everything he has at Jim. His respect, his loyalty, his friendship, their brotherhood.

It's too much.

The meld is broken and Spock's brain vaguely registers surprise because _Jim _did that, and isn't he supposed to be psi null? It's still dark in the room but Spock knows that Jim's face is splotchy and red with tears because he himself is crying.

_Emotional transference, _his mind supplies, ever trying to add logic to every situation. He ignores this because Jim is looking at him like he's never seen him before. After another moment of staring Jim wipes his eyes and clears his throat, though his voice still cracks.

"Was…was that…" Jim stops, falling silent. Spock sits patiently, waiting for him to sort out his emotions.

_I will wait a lifetime if need be, Jim._

When the blond tries again, his voice is quiet. "I…you won't leave? After everything I've done?" Jim sounds so uncertain, so hopeful that Spock can't help but nod once, his eyes earnest.

"I will not."

Jim is unsure as he looks Spock over. Finally, he seems to reach a conclusion.

"They always leave."

"I will not."

They stare at each other.

Spock studies the human, noting his slumped posture and tired eyes. The Vulcan stands and takes two steps away from the bed. He does not miss the brief, wounded look that flits across Jim's features.

"I assure you that I have no intentions of leaving you, Jim. However, you are inebriated and are in need of rest. I suggest you sleep at this time." Jim opens his mouth and Spock cuts him off.

"I am not above applying the necessary force, James."

Well. No arguing with that.

The exhausted human burrows underneath the covers and immediately his eyes begin to droop. He fights it though, leveling a serious look up at Spock.

"If you're lyin' to me I'll cut your balls off and feed them to Sulu's plants."

The corner of Spock's mouth twitches.

"Of course, Jim."

* * *

><p><em>Ouchie. Spock better not be lying! :D<em>


	5. Freedom

Jim can't believe they made it.

Five years. Five years of obstacles, wayward missions, and proving Starfleet that yes, they're young, but they get shit _done_. Five years out among the stars, five years of doing the things they love with the people they've come to love. Five years of family, of heartbreak and death, of experiencing the worst kind of pain and a joy that's more than worth it in the end. Five years of supporting each other and becoming stronger because of it.

These have been the best five years of James T. Kirk's life.

He tells everyone aboard the Enterprise this the day before they dock on earth. His voice carries throug the intercom with pride of his crew and their loyalty to him and this ship, because without them he wouldn't be even a quarter of the man he is today.

Dinner is a memorable event, and Jim feels as if he's on top of the world as he enjoys the company of his friends. Sulu's going to be a badass captain one day and Jim doesn't doubt for a second that Chekov will be his more than capable first officer. The kid is finally growing up, Jim notes, but as he watches as the Russian laugh so hard that milk comes flying out of his nose Jim realizes that he'll always think of Chekov as the baby of their group. A scary smart baby with an unquenchable thirst for vodka, but Jim can overlook that.

Uhura hands Chekov a napkin, smiling gently at him. She catches Jim's eye and winks.

Honestly, Jim is still a little afraid of Uhura. And he can't be blamed for that, not really.

That woman can be terrifying if need be.

* * *

><p>That night Jim stands alone on the observation deck, staring out at the stars. He's always had a fascination with them, ever since he was little. On the bad nights, when his mom was gone and Frank loomed around every corner, he used to look up at the stars. For those small, fleeting moments, it was just him and the stars. No Frank, no worries, and no limitations. When he first became captain he had a small fear that they would lose their allure because of how long he would be among them. If anything, he became more enamored with them. They represented the vastness of the universe, how small his life really was in the grand scheme of things. They represented hope. Freedom.<p>

"Knew I'd find you here."

Jim's favorite southern drawl breaks the reflective silence he had immersed himself in. Bones comes to stand beside him and they both gaze at the glittering flecks before them.

"You know, I thought I would have died by now," Jim says conversationally. He glances at Bones, a small smirk quirking his lips. The doctor rolls his eyes.

"You almost did. More times then I can count."

Jim chuckles softly, lost in memories. Of course, some are more pleasant than others.

"Hey, remember the time I switched Spock's shampoo with pink hair dye?"

Bones snorts. "How could I forget? I was the one to patch you up after your 'sparring' match." Jim shrugs, smiling at the memory. Good times.

"I think he was trying to cover up the fact that he secretly loved the color. You won't believe how hard it was to find that shade."

"I am sure you found it worth the trouble, nonetheless," Spock's cool voice cuts in. Jim turns and beams.

"Spock! Glad you could make it to the party!"

The Vulcan comes to a stop at Jim's right side.

"Indeed." He nods at McCoy. "Doctor."

"Hobgoblin."

"Leonard, it has been five years. Normally I would assume that a being with your intelligence would realize that I am not a hobgoblin, but obviously I stand corrected."

"Hey, that sounded like a compliment!" Jim chimes in.

"I wouldn't count on it," Bones says flatly.

Jim is smiling so hard his face is starting hurt.

"Guys, we made it."

The trio watches the stars pass in companionable silence. A sudden and drawn out yawn has both Jim and Spock staring at Bones, and the doctor would be okay with this if they _both _didn't have an eyebrow raised.

_Well I'll be damned. Took him five years but he finally did it, _McCoy thinks.

"Not as young as I used to be," he says instead. "I'll see you tomorrow." He exits with a pat to Jim's shoulder and a nod to Spock, who both remain. The finality of this moment sinks over them like a heavy fog.

"We really made it," Jim repeats softly.

"Yes, we have."

The captain sighs. Then he begins to fidget. Spock studies him from the corner of his eye.

"Is there something on your mind, Jim?"

"Uh…not really."

Of course Spock knows by now that Jim is not being entirely truthful. He resolves to wait.

Three…two…one…

"You know, we're both still young, right?" Jim blurts, turning to face Spock, his expression earnest. "And I'm nowhere close to being done and neither are you, right?"

"That is correct."

"So it's only logical that we get another assignment after a very long and very awesome leave. And I was wondering if, you know, if you wanted to…"

"Jim."

The blond stops babbling and huffs. Spock's eyes are warm as he takes in Jim's frustrated expression.

"I would be honored to once again serve as your first officer."

Jim releases a rush of air and then smiles, clearly embarrassed.

"Jeez, it's not like I was asking you to marry me. I just…I know we've become close over the years, but I thought you might want to…I don't know, branch out a little. I wouldn't hold it against you if you wanted to switch things up. Hell, you'd make a great captain! I just want you be happy." Jim's words are sincere, and it reinforces Spock's beliefs that much more.

"Jim, over the years we have grown accustomed to one another to the point where we are able to finish each other's train of thought quite easily. We have seen each other at our worst and at our best. Serving under a new captain would be akin to losing an eye and frankly, I believe it would be detrimental to your health if I were not there to 'cover your ass', as you would say."

Jim's eyes have gone as wide as saucers as he stares at Spock. He reacts in a typical Jim Kirk fashion.

He glomps his first officer.

It's a testament to how far they've come as comrades when Spock doesn't stiffen or try to pull away. However, he does look skyward as he releases a small huff of breath that basically equates to a sigh.

Humans.

When Jim finally pulls away Spock relaxes. Jim stands there for a moment, simply staring with wet eyes. For a brief, horrifying second, Spock thinks that he might be hugged (assaluted) again. Instead Jim sniffs.

"Aw shit," he mumbles. "I promised I wouldn't cry. Why'd you have to go and say that, Spock…?" He wipes his arm across his face. "God, I can't believe it's all over. But we'll be back out here in no time, right?"

"Indeed, Jim."

"You know, I thought we'd never be friends and look at us now. We're practically bffs!" He lowers his voice. "Don't tell Bones, though. He gets jealous sometimes, the grumpy old man." Jim flashes a grin at Spock and is momentarily taken aback at the alarmingly borderline affectionate expression on the Vulcan's face. It's gone almost immediately, but the warmth still lingers in his dark eyes. His next words are ones Jim will cherish for the rest of his life.

"I have been, and always shall be your friend, Jim."

Yeah. Best five years _ever_.

* * *

><p><em>The end! :D<em>

_I want to thank everyone who supported this story. You are all amazing and I would bake you yummy treats and deliver them to you if I could. But alas, all I have are my sincere thanks! _

_So. Until next time. :)_


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